


Stories from Hunting Hell

by sanguinePengu1n



Category: Poptropica (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Abusive Mentor, Angst, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Gaslighting, Gen, Memoirs, Memories, One Shot Collection, POV Alternating, POV First Person, guilt tripping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 20:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12066507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguinePengu1n/pseuds/sanguinePengu1n
Summary: As the former protégé-turned-taxidermist of a world-famous big game hunter, he has numerous memories of working with Myron Van Buren. Well, more like working /for/ him...Fortunately, the young man has lived to tell the tale. Read as he recollects whatever comes to mind.In this collection of short texts exceeding one-hundred words but no more than a thousand, these ficlets center around the hard life of Aaron "Wild Eel" Neilsen during what he dubs 'Hunting Hell.'Chapters are not in chronological order, as they could happen in any point in time during the dark part of the character's past.





	Stories from Hunting Hell

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Professor Penguin's Prattlings of Proper Drabbles from Poptropica](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/322452) by sanguinePengu1n (same author). 



> Welcome to my second (well, publicly speaking, first) work on Ao3!
> 
> If you've read "Professor Penguin's Prattlings of Proper Drabbles from Poptropica" on Fanfiction.Net, this work you're reading is written by the same author--sanguinePengu1n ! 
> 
> I hope I'm not the only one who has noticed that the majority of the drabbles I've written from there are centered around the original character, Wild Eel. Because I am very interested in writing even longer (but still brief!) stories of Wild Eel's life in the remote Yukon cabin (which is known as 'Hunting Hell' for that chapter in his life), I've decided that any story about Hunting Hell!Wild Eel that exceeds the 100-word limit for the source fic will be here.  
> Because now, you can enjoy even longer stories--which are still as brief as the original drabble collection!

 Even now, I still try to put myself in my former mentor's shoes. Heck, I know it's unhealthy, but it's a habit I've developed all these years! What does he think, see or do in /his/ viewpoint? 

Yet, whenever I try to remember, my mind's eye gives me something like this:

* * *

 

Myron Van Buren sat in his booked hotel room, near a wooden desktop. A very comfortable-looking place, with toned-down natural hues and earthy beige tones. Calm atmosphere, right? The same couldn't be said for what was _really_ going on, though...

 "I have told you, countless times, Aaron.”  He snarled on the rotary dial phone. "You are doing surveillance for the next few days whilst I am absent, and you shall do it flawlessly!"

 

He waited for a few seconds, pretending to listen to whatever excuse the one on other line has.

Then, it sounded like he's harshly cutting the poor boy off.

"When I return, I want you to give me both the written and spoken report of your findings—anything suspicious within the vicinity of the hunting grounds is first priority. I shall examine the footage you have taken with sharp observation—like what I have taught you with all those years. You should know by now.”

 He rolled his eyes at the hesitant, yet recited apology he received from the other line.

‘Yes Sir’— that was music to a good hunter’s ears.  
It only takes two words, and two syllables. That was the format of the apology he has instructed to him, minus the hesitancy in the tone of voice.

 

 “And if I find that you missed _one_ occurrence...” he threatened. “ _You shall see what happens_.”

 A small pause.  And then, his voice got stern and dark, “I believe this is a simple task for you, Aaron Neilsen. Do not disappoint me. Good day.”

 And he loudly slammed the handle-shaped transmitter back in its cradle, like an uncaring parent would do with a child.

 

* * *

 I still remember the exact things I've said in that conversation. I just didn't bother to include them there, because I just literally imagined myself as that old man. My mind even complied when it replayed that one memory of being over the phone, but in a different point of view--in a different place, and as a different person. 

After a perceived scenario like that happens, I'd shake my head and decide to live in the present again.

I hope I can focus on myself from this point on. That way, it'd be easier to tell the story.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot guarantee that this work will have (in)finite chapters, let alone be updated regularly with more content. It only depends on the inspiration I get, and how long I want the story to be. Consider this work to be some kind of fallback for "Professor Penguin's Prattlings of Proper Drabbles from Poptropica", if I decide that I want to turn a drabble I'm writing into a ficlet.


End file.
